


Maybe It's...

by airspaniel



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Blow Jobs, F/M, Lipstick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-13
Updated: 2009-06-13
Packaged: 2017-10-15 04:15:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/156931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/airspaniel/pseuds/airspaniel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John drinks and dares, and Tosh plays it safe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe It's...

**Author's Note:**

> It took me a year and a half to get this done the way I wanted it. *facepalm* But done it is! Comments/crit always welcome!

Toshiko was feeling slightly nervous, the hollow click of her heels on the wood floor echoing through the empty room; setting her teeth on edge.

How many times had she faced death in increasingly bizarre guises and lived to tell about it? And this small encounter was making her nervous? Surely this should barely register on the comparative danger scale.

Then she remembered the taste of blood in her mouth, Owen shot, Gwen poisoned, and all right, maybe this was among the stupidest things she'd ever willfully done.

And she was supposed to be the smart one.

"Are you coming in, or what?" an impatient voice called from the next room.

So much for the element of surprise.

She ducked through the heavy velvet curtain, the light behind the bottles on the bar casting strange rainbows across the empty club.

Almost empty. A man sat at the end of the bar, a bottle in his fist, tapping one booted foot idly against the rail.

"Does Daddy know you've been playing with his toys?" he taunted, polishing off what looked like a bottle of whiskey and tossing the empty unceremoniously behind the bar.

"He doesn't wear it all the time," Tosh blurted defensively. "And besides, I..."

"Take that as a no." he cut her off, smoothly raising the next bottle in line to his lips. The light danced over his skin in an altogether distracting way, highlighting the arch of his cheekbones, and casting those deep blue eyes into shadow.

"I am an official representative of Torchwood," Tosh rallied, stepping in to his personal space, "and as such I'm - Ah!" Her protest ended in a squeak as John grabbed her wrist and pulled her in closer, pinning her between his legs and the cold granite of the bar.

"It really wasn't official business I was thinking of," John purred, and Tosh felt the blush that lit up her face spread from the tips of her ears, crawling in a hot flash down her chest. Her breath caught just slightly, and John grinned. "Looks like I'm not the only one."

He wasn't. Oh, god, he wasn't. Tosh took a deep breath, mustering the very last of her self-control. "Yes, well, I think you'll find I'm qualified to address any needs you might have."

John chuckled at that, a deep sound that made her shiver. "I'll bet you are." He reached past her for the next bottle in line; vodka, it seemed to be, and none too expensive. But he didn't wince as he drank deeply, the clear liquid flowing over and down his chin in intriguing little rivulets.

Tosh swept her tongue surreptitiously across her lower lip, and if she was wondering how those little trails of alcohol would taste ( _sharp, burning, with a hint of hot, clean flesh beneath_ ), it wasn't obvious on her face.

Well, not _too_ obvious. She hoped.

"Why'd you come here, Tosh?" John whispered, practically licking her ear. "What do you want from little old me?" And oh, _oh_ now he was _actually_ licking her ear, tracing his tongue along the shell of it; lips brushing against her sensitive skin as he spoke.

"Have you forgotten the last time we met up, Tosh?"

She shivered again, this time from the awful memory; but her hand still wandered up his chest, fingering the buttons of his coat all the way up the bare skin at his collar. "Far be it from me to enter a hostile situation without protection."

He chuckled again, a sweet vibration under her hand. "Don't need to worry about that, love," he whispered, breath still teasing against her ear. "I've got that covered. So to speak."

"I sincerely doubt you've addressed the same precautions," she said, producing a slim gold tube from her small handbag.

"I'm not sure fuck-me red is your color," he smirked, nodding his head towards the lipstick in her hand.

Tosh smiled faintly, chin lifted in a gesture of defiance. "Good thing it's not for me, then. Open up."

John threw his head back and laughed, a rich, musical sound. "I love it! Absolutely love it." He let his lips fall open as his eyes slid shut, a perfect picture of submission. Tosh raised the lipstick, hand shaking slightly, though from nerves or anticipation, she couldn't tell.

"Well, go on then," John teased, and his breath ghosted hot against her fingertips. "Make me beautiful."

She couldn't quite contain her amusement, grinning widely as she swiped the red across his bottom lip. His breath hitched at the contact, hips twitching just enough to press against her lower belly and it was her turn to gasp as she carefully painted the cupid's bow of his upper lip.

The red was lurid, obscene against the white of his teeth and his pale skin. His lips curled back in a smile that was more predator than pleased, and she shuddered. It looked like blood, coloring his mouth crimson; one solitary drop running down and staining a pointed incisor, and his eyes were still closed, waiting for her next move.

She twisted her fingers in his short hair and crushed their lips together, licking the errant lipstick off his teeth. He laughed around her tongue and threw himself into the kiss, clever hands roaming her body from shoulders to thighs and back again; lingering on her curves and making her moan every time his palms skirted the sides of her breasts, her hips. She tightened her grip on his hair with one hand, the other diving beneath the collar of his coat and t-shirt to rake nails against his bare skin.

"Aren't you a kinky one?" John hissed, shrugging his shoulders back so Tosh could push the jacket off. "Does your team know you've got all this buttoned up under there?"

Tosh didn't answer, just fastened her lips to the side of his throat, pressing her tongue against his pulse. Her hands wandered under the hem of his shirt, nails raking up his sides as she lifted it up and over his head.

John gasped. "God, of course they don't. They'd never let you button it back up again."

"You always talk this much?" Tosh asked, mouth moving wetly over his collarbone, his chest, working her way downward, and my god, she couldn't believe she was actually doing this.

John's hand rested on the top of her head, not pushing, exactly, but definitely giving her an idea of where he'd like her to go. "What can I say? I like the sound of my own voice."

His breath hitched a little when she unbuckled his gun belt, letting it clatter to the floor as she quickly unfastened his trousers, and Tosh couldn't help feeling a little triumphant. She looked up through her lashes, leaning her head back into his hand. "I like it, too," she said softly, sexily she hoped, even though her face was burning. Her fingers worked into his waistband, pulling his trousers down over his slim hips, and she wasn't honestly surprised that he wasn't wearing anything underneath.

Tosh licked her lips. "So, um," she began, wincing a little at the stutter. "Let me hear it, then." She wrapped her fingers loosely around the base of his cock and brought it to her mouth, licking a hot wet stripe up the underside.

"You naughty - fuck yes - _naughty_ girl, Toshiko." His hand tightened just a little in her hair, and Tosh swirled her tongue around his shaft, flicking it against the slick head

"Oh, you're a dirty tease, arent you? Think you're so so clever," John gasped, just as she closed her lips around his dick and began to suck in earnest, setting up a rhythm between her mouth and her hand, smooth and quick and even.

"Harder," he demanded, and Tosh eagerly obliged, feeling a little lost, pleasure drunk on the hypnotic movement and the steady murmur of sound that John was making; only half words, and only half of those intelligible.

She picked up the pace, pressing her tongue hard against his slit with every other stroke until he was mostly moaning, one hand clutched to the bar while the other held her hair tight.

"Fair warning," he choked out, and Tosh didn't pull away, just kept sucking hard and insistently while he panted above her. "Fuck, fuck, _fuck yes_ , just like that... _god_ "

She swallowed eagerly; a little amazed by her own boldness, and John softened his hold on her hair, letting it fall through his fingers almost affectionately. Almost gentle, until he slid his hands down her neck, her shoulders; gripping her arms tightly and yanking her off of the floor.

Tosh's head was still spinning, a hint of fear creeping back into her lustful haze as he lifted her to sit on the bar, skirt rucked up around her thighs and her legs spread, knees on either side of John's ribcage.

He leaned into her like a predator scenting prey, with his crimson-smeared mouth, and she trembled; head turning away from him even as her heels pressed into the small of his back, pulling him closer.

"Look at me, Tosh," he ordered, voice pitched low and full of amusement. When she hesitated, he pressed closer, dragging his lips up the side of her throat and _oh -_ she could feel the sticky-slick residue of the lipstick catching her skin, leaving marks, and she wanted... She wanted so badly for him to make those marks for real. To make them _last_.

"Tosh..." he prompted, drawing away enough to turn her head with a hand on her chin, forcing eye contact even as his other hand slid up her inner thigh, fingertips just barely brushing against hot wet satin; making Tosh rock her hips forward to get _just a little more..._

"Yes," she sighed, with no idea what she was agreeing to; but John grinned at her, licked his lips slowly and _anything..._ She would do anything.

"Oh, I'm counting on it," John leered in response to the words Tosh hadn't known she was speaking aloud. She only had a second to be embarrassed before he was lifting her again; just enough to shove her skirt up around her waist, giving himself better access.

He lowered his head, and oh, god, he _wasn't_ Tosh gasped, a helpless needy noise, as he bit her thigh, worrying her flesh between too-sharp teeth (leaving a bruise, oh, a _reminder_ ), and he was so close and so hot and she couldn't help the whimper that escaped her throat.

"Easy, love," John soothed, in a way that wasn't very soothing at all. "We're just getting started."

Tosh's head fell back as he stopped teasing, bottles rattling as she clutched at the bar.

It was entirely possible that she wouldnt survive this, after all.  



End file.
